Hope
by Jen
Summary: Rentfic. Random Mark thoughts. Written a while back.


Wrote this in a thirty-

**Wrote this in a thirty-minute spurt into between my morning and afternoon class. Came to me in a bit of a flash and has a lot to do with my own kinda depressing mood lately (and a had a fight w/ my roommate yesterday ::sigh:: and today my mother called me to tell me not to go to downtown Boston b/c of some more threats here, just not a good few days).** **That, and the reading a lot of depressed Mark fics lately, contributed to this ficlet. Tomorrow I write a happy fic. I am challenging myself to do that :).  
  
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. **  


**Hope**

  
  
_I am destined to be alone._  
  
Jeez, that's depressing. I can't believe I've written it down. I just stare at the sentence, its message blurring across the white page. I almost laugh at its simplicity.   
  
It took me three months to actually form the nagging thought in my head into words. I won't say them aloud. No, can't do that. I document everything, talking to my camera is so easy - yet, these words are not ready to be uttered out loud.   
  
Hope. I live day to day on it. It stays in the corner of my mind, never jumping on top of any thought, but still making its presence known. Hope that someday it will get better.   
  
Just hope.   
  
I stare down once again at those six words and slam the black and white notebook shut, as if the surrounding pages can erase what I've finally written.   
  
I know it's still there.   
  
I shove the book and it falls off the table and onto the floor with a soft thud. With it a few feet further from me, I'm somewhat relieved.   
  
The past couple of months have moved so fast that I could hardly blink as they happened. As usual, I'm simply the observer while my friends construct a life around themselves. I get it on film, but in the end, I find myself feeling like I'm watching it alone.  
  
After Mimi's close call, Roger spent more and more time at her place, and more and more of his things ended up down there. Last week, he officially moved in with Mimi. They're pretty happy and fighting less frequently. Still, once a week he or Mimi runs up here to vent. It should make me feel needed, I guess.   
  
Instead, every time the door slams and one or the other heads back to reconcile, it reminds me once again about how I'm alone.   
  
Collins got a teaching position in New Mexico of all places. We all threw him a going away party and he said that as soon as he saved enough money from teaching, he was going to open that restaurant he always talked about. Invite us all down and it would be great.   
  
Would be. Future tense. It's the present I'm worrying about.   
  
Last month, Maureen and Joanne got into another fight. A huge fight, one that I thought would be the end of their relationship. Joanne threw Maureen out and I found Maureen at my doorstep at 4:30 in the morning, giving me that look that could still make me cave in. I sat through an hour and half rant about how "Joanne is overreacting" and how she "wasn't even flirting with her."   
  
I just watched Maureen in fascination. She had always been incredible to watch. Even when she was angry, she put such passion into her anger that during half (okay maybe more than half) of our fights I usually ended up apologizing. I knew it wasn't my fault, but after a discussion with Maureen I felt like it had to be.   
  
She was an actress all right. Definitely an actress.  
  
Maureen stayed for two nights. I woke up to a note left on the kitchen table saying (in a way Maureen could only say it) that she had wandered back to Joanne's late last night and they had made up and were currently driving to Vermont.   
  
Yep, Joanne and Maureen ended up tying the knot. It seemed the only way to keep Maureen on a "leash," I guess. Further proved that Maureen and Joanne were meant to be. I was happy for them, if not really surprised, especially about Maureen making such a commitment. But I guess that's how spur of the moment things work. I was surprised I wasn't jealous; I finally figured that I was truly over Maureen. 

After they returned, I saw little of the "newlyweds."

So, no Maureen and Joanne. No Mimi and Roger. No Collins.  
  
That brings me back to my current position.   
  
Sitting on top of the kitchen table.  
  
Alone.   
  
This isn't new. I've been living like this for at least two months. Go out, come back, each time to a bunch of empty rooms. I've been getting jobs here and there, and sorta paying rent. I haven't heard a word from Benny, but I think he'd laid off because of our friendship in college. Plus, Alison didn't let him out much. Too busy changing diapers.  
  
The notebook sits on the floor, mocking me. Mocking the fact that I've written out the words that scare me more than anything else in the world.   
  
Words that crush hope like a bug.   
  
I'm naïve. I know it. But I'm not naïve enough to not see things as they happen; I just seemingly overlook them, tell myself that they aren't happening. Maureen wasn't cheating on me. Roger wasn't using. Things like that.   
  
Of course, that's all past. Maureen's happy. Roger's happy. Even after losing the love of his life, Collins has picked up the pieces and moved on.   
  
I'm not happy.   
  
The thought hits me full force, like I've never had it before. I scoop up the notebook and open it to that page.   
  
Destined to be alone? Or destined to be unhappy?  
  
Maybe both.   
  
I'm not ready to say either out loud. My camera sits in the corner, and I glance at it and shake my head.   
  
Nope, not ready. Still living on that string of hope. I'm only twenty-five. Things could change.   
  
Could.  
  
Can a person change their destiny? It's a question I've asked before. Once to my sister, documented it on film, but still, I never really thought about the answer. If there was an answer. Sit around and wait for fate to take its course - was that destiny?  
  
A cross to the window, and I'm peering out, looking down at the street below. The homeless mill on the street, couples walk by, life moves at its own pace, full of moments that echo the one I've just had, and moments that push on past the thought.   
  
I grab my coat, my camera. Time to go out again. Exploring. Taping. Make a new reel that Maureen, Joanne, Roger, and Mimi will have to see.   
  
On the way out the door, I stop and turn back to the table. I open to the page and cross out the sentence until it's just a mess of blue ink.  
  
I'm not ready to even write it down.   
****

**I hope that Vermont is the right state, btw (I'm pretty sure it is, but I could be wrong). That felt good to get a little depression out of my system. Like it, hate it? Please review.**


End file.
